Wednesday is market day in Machynlleth, as it has been for 722 years. Walk down the town's main street on market day and among the dozens of stalls selling everything from organic courgettes to army surplus gear, you will hear a dizzy array of accents: Welsh, Brummie, Mancunian, home counties, cockney, some quite hard to place. Often too, you'll hear snatches of the Welsh language, but the predominant tongue by far is English.

The diversity of accents at the local sheep market, tucked away almost symbolically behind rows of houses to the north of the town, is also broad, but with one clear difference: these are the many dialects of Cymraeg, the Welsh language. Here, it is spoken English that is in a tiny minority.

In a place just a couple of hours from the heartland of the most expansionist linguistic culture in history, the continuation of an ancient language and culture may seem puzzling, but the fact that this persistence is strongest among those families who have farmed the Cambrian Mountains for thousands of years certainly isn't. Throughout the world, it is within agricultural and hunter gatherer communities that traditions and languages persist the most. And within our farming community the Welsh language and culture is not just stronger; it is, to all intents and purposes, universal.

George Monbiot is apparently appalled by the insinuation that replacing agriculture in the Cambrians with a 'wilded' environment, where locals derive an income from tourism, would be akin to the displacement of Native Americans to create Yellowstone National Park. What is truly appalling is that he does not recognise the analogy.

Appalling, but sadly not shocking: over the past half century we have witnessed the arrival of countless rat-race refugees and environmental fundamentalists, all determined to reconnect with rural life and nature, seemingly oblivious to the fact that their new-found paradise is already occupied by people whose connection with the land is deep rooted, dates back thousands of years, and is embedded in their language and culture.

While many quickly recognise reality and become genuine and welcome members of the community, others hide themselves away among the English ex-pat community, busying themselves with sorting out the world's problems, usually starting on their own doorsteps.

Mike Parker, an Englishman 'gone native', summarises the position perfectly in Neighbours from Hell?, his book about English attitudes to the Welsh:

"Never underestimate the zeal of the convert … they arrive in rural, Welsh-speaking Wales, fired up with a righteous sense of 'doing the right thing' in their environmental work, and nothing is allowed to dent that. Underpinning many of these attitudes is a deep-rooted certainty … that they have far more to teach the Welsh than the other way around."

Perhaps it is the language barrier, or some similar harmless obstacle or misunderstanding which creates this attitude, but it has the distinct aura of plain old fashioned English colonialism – only with the quinine replaced by camomile tea, and a new, written form of gun-boat diplomacy.

It's all stuff we are used to here, so why the particular anger among the Welsh about George Monbiot's wilding articles and book?

Aside from the fact that wilding would destroy a host of sites of special scientific interest, what is most offensive is the way in which reality is twisted to vilify those people and practices which must be displaced in order to create the wild Wales of English romantic myth.

To this end, a landscape is portrayed where "…towers of smoke ...[rise]… from the hills as the farmers burn tracts of gorse and trees in order to claim more public money". And as if the battalion of EU-funded pyromaniac farmers seeking to "… expand the area eligible for … subsidy" [1] wasn't destructive enough, they are accompanied by an infantry of sheep which lay waste to everything the flames have failed to destroy.

Powerful images, but as much a work of fiction as the felling of Fangorn Forest by Saruman and his Orcs: sheep have been farmed in Wales for thousands of years, while area payments were introduced in 2005 – the same year in which Good Agricultural and Environmental Condition (GAEC) rules were introduced and the area eligible for payments was fixed.

So what impact has this alleged 'slash-and-burn-then-graze' policy "perfectly designed … for maximum ecological destruction", had? Miraculously, since GAEC was introduced in 2005 it has resulted in a doubling of the amount of woodland on Welsh upland farms, and a 65% increase in the same across Wales as a whole.

During the same period, Welsh sheep numbers fell by around 20%, while studies of stocking numbers in vast areas of the Cambrian Mountains suggest that sheep numbers have peaked and troughed, but on the whole changed little, or diminished, over the past century.

Of course, it stands to reason that overgrazing can have a range of damaging impacts, but equally intuitive is the damage caused by the complete removal of herbivores, domestic or otherwise, which have been present for thousands of years – hence the RSPB's conclusion (pdf) that "… undergrazing and loss of vegetation structure is now occurring in some areas, with adverse impacts for some species such as golden plover and other waders."

Not surprisingly, Monbiot's proposed changes to the CAP would render the businesses which undertake such grazing unviable – farms which despite having average incomes of the order of £21,000, nevertheless input the best part of £100,000 into the rural economy each year specifically because they farm sheep.

Given that agriculture is estimated to support over 10% of full time employees in Wales (pdf), the implications of any proposals for change need to be carefully considered, especially when they have a wilding in mind, which rural economists generally regard with extreme scepticism.

Finally, academic ponderings aside, what would the impacts be for my own children and their classmates? A quick head-count reveals that of the 46 children in their classes, 67% Welsh as a first language, of whom 39% are from sheep farming families, and 75% are reliant, to varying degrees, on sheep farming.